


My Answer

by Optimizche



Category: EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-09-22 16:45:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17063372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optimizche/pseuds/Optimizche





	1. Chapter 1

"Mr. Kim has decided to give the mansion in Switzerland to you," your attorney said to you in a quiet voice, while you glanced at the documents before you.

"How incredibly generous of him," you replied, a sarcastic edge creeping into your tone while you looked at the 'him' in question, sitting across the table from you.

_Kim Junmyeon._

_CEO of Kim Enterprises._

_Soon to be your ex-husband._

Dressed sharply, as usual, in a black Armani suit, a new gold Rolex gleaming on his wrist, Junmyeon was talking to his attorney.

That's what the four of you, Junmyeon, his lawyer and you with your lawyer, were doing in this empty boardroom on the 70th floor of the head office of Kim Enterprises: finalizing your divorce settlement.

You were about to turn to speak to your lawyer, when you felt your phone buzz in your purse.

Fishing out the device from your fresh-off-the-runway Louis Vuitton, you checked your messages.

**Joon (12:41):** When are you finally getting rid of the monster, princess?

You couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips when you read the text your best friend, Namjoon, had sent you.

**You (12:42):** _Soon,_ Joonie. Today is the last meeting. The settlement is being drawn up. After today, I'll not have to see his face again.

His reply came instantly.

**Joon (12:43):** Sweet! Want to grab lunch with me to celebrate? My treat.

You grinned at the screen.

**You (12:44):** Of course. How can I ever say no to you?

**Joon (12:45):** Great! Give me a call as soon as you're done.

You were just about to type out a smiley emoji to send to him when you heard Junmyeon clear his throat. _Loudly._

"Wouldn't it be wise if you kept your phone aside for the rest of the meeting?" he asked, his dark eyes fixed on you.

You bit your cheek. The reply was sitting sharp on your tongue.

_Wouldn't it have been wiser if you had managed to keep your dick out of your secretary, Junmyeon_ , you wanted to reply. _Would've saved us a lot of hassle and saved **you** a lot of money, right?_

But you remained silent. You didn't want to give his snake of an attorney any fuel against you. And besides, you wanted this entire raging nightmare to be over with as soon as possible. You just wanted your divorce, then you'd be on your way.

The past two months had been straight out of a horror movie for you. It had all started when you had flown to Singapore, to surprise your husband. Junmyeon had gone there for a business conference, and you felt bad for letting him go without trying to make ammends for the fight you had had just before he departed.

You couldn't even remember the reason of the fight now. Perhaps it was because of how hard he was working himself? That he needed a break? That you both needed to spend some time together? You couldn't recall.

But what you _could_ recall, much to your chagrin, was walking into his hotel suite that night and finding him balls deep inside his new secretary. Literally.

Your smile, along with your resolve to try to make your four year marriage work, had disappeared the moment you had discovered him.

You did not confront him. You did not fight with him. There was no screaming. You simply flew back and moved out of the home you had built with him four years ago. Once you had shifted into your new apartment, you filed for divorce.

Of course he tried to apologize. Numerous times. Sent flowers. Chocolates. Jewellery. He called you. Came to visit you. _Begged_ you to call off the divorce. Asked for another chance. Promised that he'd make it work. He called it his 'moment of weakness.'

That statement made you snort in derision, because you had once heard another man describe his philandering ways with the exact same set of words. Your father.

Your childhood had been difficult, to say the least. An alcoholic, your father frequently cheated on your mother. Right up until her death from cancer. Every time he called it 'a moment of weakness.'

When your mother passed away, your father chose to abandon you, to run off with whoever he was fucking. You didn't mind. You didn't care.

Distracting yourself with the only way you knew, you put your heart and soul into your education. Your stellar academic record won you a scholarship to an Ivy league university, from where you graduated cum laude.

You had almost immediately landed a job at Kim Enterprises, recruited to the post by Mr. Kim, Junmyeon's father, who was the CEO then. You remembered how impressed Mr. Kim had been with your brilliant academic credentials during your interview.

Mr. Kim took you under his wing, teaching you the ropes of business administration, the nitty-gritties of what it took to run the billion-dollar juggernaut that was Kim Enterprises. He treated you like his own daughter.

Through him, you had met Junmyeon. And for the both of you, it was love at first sight. You two became close, working better as a team than you worked individually. He was everything you had dreamt of: devastatingly handsome, well educated, kind and funny. And he was head over heels in love with you. Absolutely besotted. So when Mr. Kim decided to retire, leading to his only son's ascent to the helm of the company, Junmyeon proposed to you.

The wedding had been a massive media-circus. You two tied the knot in Italy, with Mr. Kim walking you down the aisle since you had neither of your own parents with you.

You had been living the dream, all until that fateful night in Singapore, when in a 'moment of weakness' your husband couldn't keep it in his pants.

You were hurt. _Deeply hurt._ Not only because the life you had envisioned with your husband had fallen apart in one fell swoop, but because the love of your life, Kim Junmyeon, had turned out to be a cheater too. _Just_ like your father.

Your lawyer's voice pulled you out of your reverie. "We should be finished in a moment," he said in a hushed voice.

"Great," you breathed, relieved. You couldn't wait to celebrate your newfound freedom with Namjoon.

Just then, a loud ringing sound made you jump. It was Junmyeon's phone.

You couldn't resist this little jibe. "Wouldn't it be wise if you kept your phone aside for the rest of the meeting, Junmyeon?" you asked in a voice dripping with sarcasm, echoing your soon to be ex's earlier statement.

He muttered a quiet "excuse me" before standing up and taking the call.

_Typical,_ you scoffed internally.

Atleast once this meeting was over, you'd never need to see him again.

"What?" Junmyeon's loud exclamation startled you. His face conveyed worry. And panic. _"How? When?"_

This alarmed you, because no matter what happened, Junmyeon had always been calm and collected. This was something serious.

_Definitely_ serious.

A few quiet murmurs later, he said, "Yes, of course. I'm on my way," before disconnecting.

"What happened?" you asked him.

He ran a hand over his face. "Dad is in the hospital. Cardiac arrest."

_"What?"_ you asked, shocked.

"I need to go to the hospital," he said to his lawyer. "Can you please stay here and finish this?"

"Of course," his lawyer nodded.

Junmyeon turned to leave, when you stood up. "Wait! I'm coming with you."

He looked at you, his dark eyes holding yours. "You don't have to. I'm sure you have better places to be."

"Whether you like it or not, I'm coming," you replied, your voice steely. "I care about your father too."


	2. Chapter 2

"He just had a massive cardiac arrest," Mr. Kim's doctor was saying, while rifling through the case papers. "It is lucky that he managed to survive this."

Seated beside you in the doctor's office, Junymeon let out a breath, running a hand over his face. For the moment, he was relieved.

"What does this mean for him?" he asked the doctor, a balding man in his late fifties.

The doctor looked at Junmyeon over his glasses. "I won't be able to say for certain. But suffering such a severe arrest at this age, his condition is critical. Honestly, his heart is giving up, which means that he does not have much time. Not to mention his advancing pneumonia..."

"Wait," Junmyeon interrupted. "Dad has pneumonia?"

He looked aghast upon hearing this revelation.

The doctor nodded gravely. "You didn't know?"

 _"No!"_ Junmyeon exclaimed. "He kept playing it down as a bad cough... I didn't know it was this bad..."

He looked hurt. Betrayed.

You wanted to reach out and pat his arm in a gesture of sympathy, but you refrained.

Instead you spoke to the doctor. "Can we see him?"

The doctor turned his attention toward you and nodded. "Yes you can, but keep it brief."

___________

Your father-in-law looked incredibly frail and weak, lying on his hospital bed. It broke your heart, seeing the man who had walked you down the aisle, in this condition.

The once strong and indomitable leader of Kim Enterprises who dazzled the corporate world with his acumen, now looked so fragile and powerless.

Seeing him like this brought tears to your eyes and Junmyeon's.

Each of you approached him from either side pf his bed, clasping his bony, feeble hands in yours delicately.

"Dad?" Junymeon's voice came out in a whisper.

Mr. Kim opened his eyes, and a slight smile came to his lips beneath the oxygen mask upon seeing you both.

"My children," he rasped.

When you heard his voice, you crumbled, tears sliding down your face.

"Don't cry, daughter," he said to you. "I know that my time is near-"

"Don't say such things, Dad," Junmyeon said, blinking back his own tears.

"Jun, you need to accept things the way that they are," Mr. Kim told him. "I won't be able to live forever. But I don't need to worry anymore. The company is in your hands and I know that you will lead it well."

He turned to you. "Things will be difficult for you, my daughter. But you will need to support Jun after I am gone. And he will support you, won't you, Jun? Both of you will look after each other, won't you?"

At his words, your eyes shot up to Junmyeon's, and when your eyes met his, you could see it written clearly in his dark orbs: _he hadn't told his father about your impending divorce._

"W-we will, Dad," Junmyeon stuttered, averting his eyes from you, further confirming your suspicion.

"We will, Dad," you responded to Mr. Kim, giving his hand a squeeze.

___________

You were absolutely _livid_ when you walked out of Mr. Kim's hospital room.

"You didn't tell him?" you hissed at Junmyeon, grasping his arm and dragging him into a quiet corner.

He sighed. "No, I didn't. What should have I told him, huh?" Junmyeon asked, his tone growing progressively more frustrated.

"You should've told him the _truth,"_ you spat. "That you couldn't keep it in your pants and that you chose to cheat on your wife of four years with that mousy secretary of yours."

"Oh, god, don't start."

You were appalled, white-hot rage suddenly taking hold of you. _"'Don't start?'_ How dare you, Kim Junmyeon?" you poked him in the chest with your perfectly-manicured finger. "You are a cheater and a coward. I'm going to go and tell him right now what you have put me through-"

You turned on your heel in your anger, trying to walk back into your father-in-law's room. But Junmyeon caught your wrist.

"Please," he said to you, trying to keep his voice down to prevent anyone else from hearing. "Don't do this right now. You know he isn't well. He hasn't got much time. Don't tell him now. He's barely recovering from a cardiac arrest. Please, I'm begging you."

You felt your anger subside slightly as you considered his words. In a way, he was right. Mr. Kim's health was feeble. The news of his only son's impending divorce would only serve to hurt him even more and you didn't want to cause him any stress, not in this state.

"Fine," you muttered, wrenching your hand from his.

And then, you did the one thing you had been itching to do, ever since you had found him with his secretary.

You slapped him.

_Hard._

He staggered back a step, clutching at his cheek, his eyes stunned.

He hadn't been expecting this from you.

A look of hurt crossed through his eyes, before he drew his hand away. Where you had struck him, his pale skin had reddened. It was going to subside in a few moments.

But your seething rage wasn't.

He looked at you, wide-eyed, processing what you had just done.

"It is all your fault," you said, whispering agitatedly. "You _destroyed_ what we had. And you hurt me."

He looked pained, seeing the tears brimming in your eyes which you blinked away furiously. You weren't going to let him see you cry.

"I'm so sorry," he said, quietly, taking a step toward you, arm outstretched. "I'm really sorry. I still lo-"

 _"No,"_ you said, your voice taking on a harsh edge. "Don't you dare say that you love me, Kim Junmyeon. Don't you fucking dare."

You turned on your heel and left, walking away from him as fast as you could.

Pulling out your phone, you called up the only person you could think of.

Namjoon.

He answered on the third ring. "Hey, princess."

The sound of his deep voice brought a smile to your lips.

"Hey, Joonie," you said, twirling a lock of loose hair around your finger. "Are you free? I've got so much to tell you."

"Of course!" he replied. "Name the time and place, I'll be there."


	3. Chapter 3

"You did _what?"_ Namjoon asked, choking on his sip of red wine.

He was coughing, and smiling through his coughs, even as you rushed to his side of the table to hit him on the back.

His eyes were watering from the wine gone the wrong way, his adorable dimple on full display as he looked at you. "You _slapped_ him?"

You nodded, and he looked mightily impressed.

"You, ________, are one of the most non-confrontational people I've ever seen. I mean, I've known you since we wore diapers, practically! And I've never seen you hit anyone," he said, sounding awed. "And you slapped Junmyeon."

"He deserved it," you said, taking another sip of your wine, slinking back into your seat across the table from him.

"Oh, wholeheartedly," Namjoon replied, waving a nonchalant hand. "But you slapped him. Kitty _finally_ got her claws out, huh?"

You snorted.

You didn't want to admit it, but it felt good. That momentary release of anger. Since you had caught Junmyeon cheating, a bitterness had settled deep within your heart, knotted in with all the anger you had kept suppressed. Junmyeon was partly responsible for the stemming of these feelings, but equally guilty of it was your philandering father. In that action of slapping Junmyeon, you almost felt like you were lashing out against your father too. And it felt good.

You _hated_ cheaters.

"So, what are you going to do next?" Joon's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He was cutting into his filet mignon, watching you intently.

"What do you mean?" you asked him.

"The divorce is basically finalized. You've been separated from him for a few months now," Joon said. "When are you getting back into the dating pool?"

Upon hearing his question, you almost choked on your wine.

Almost.

"You're kidding, Joonie," you said, eyes wide in incredulity. "I'm not ready to start dating again!"

"Why not?" he asked. "You're young! You need to get back into the scene!"

You cringed at the prospect of courting another man, just having gotten out of a marriage.

"I can't do it," you said, taking a bite of your pan-seared tuna. "Not yet."

It was too much, finding the courage to go and put yourself out there. Especially after the fiasco with Junmyeon.

Namjoon reached out and placed his hand on yours. "Its okay, ________. I understand."

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. "Just... I need some time, okay?"

The way you said it, the tone of desperation in your voice clued him in to how deep the pain actually ran.

He gave your hand another reassuring squeeze.   
"You know," he began tentatively, "I hate to be the one to ask you this, but how are you going to deal with the media circus that will ensue once the divorce news breaks?"

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "I don't know, Joon," you spoke into your palms. "I _really_ don't know."

"Its okay," he responded, soothingly. "We'll handle it together."

____________________

Once you were back home from your dinner with Namjoon, you were curled up on your living room couch, watching Bridget Jones.

Just then, your phone let out a buzz.

It was a text.

 **Joon (23:04):** You know, I know this really great guy from work. Im Jaebum. You should meet him.

You felt a smile tugging at your lips, seeing your best friend's tenacity at getting you to date again.

 **You (23:05):** Did you even hear a word of what I said at dinner? I'm not ready yet.

 **Joon (23:06):** 😢

Right about then, you recieved a text from Junmyeon.

 **Junmyeon (23:07):** Hey, ___________. Can I come see you? Are you free?

You frowned at the screen. What possible reason could be there for him to see you at this hour?

 **You (23:09):** I don't want to see you.

His reply came instantly.

 **Junmyeon (23:10):** _Please._ It is urgent.

 **Junmyeon (23:10):** I'm waiting downstairs. Please let your doorman buzz me in. Please?

You had absolutely _no_ wish to see him. Not after everything that had transpired between you in the last few months.

But your curiosity got the best of you, and you found yourself calling your doorman to allow Junmyeon in.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you asked him, the moment you opened the door.

Junmyeon walked into your apartment, wearing a black coat over his usual suit. His nose had turned red from the cold outside and he had a few flecks of snow in his dark hair.

For barely a moment, you were distracted by how good he looked. But then everything came rushing back and your guard came back up. You folded your arms across your chest.

Junmyeon looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time in his life, his eyes taking you in. Your messy hair, you black lace nightgown and the matching satin robe you wore over it.

"I... I...."

"Talk quickly. I don't have much time," you snapped.

The curtness in your voice made him focus once again.

"I need your help," he began and you felt a mocking, derisive laugh leave you.

After everything, he had the nerve to ask _you_ for help?

"_________, please," he said. "I'm desperate."

"Say what you have to and leave."

"I need you to put up a few public appearances with me," he said.

"Absolutely not."

His eyes were frantic, distressed. "You know the news of Dad's ill health has reached the Board. The members are growing restless. For the sake of my position as CEO, we need to put up a front. _Please."_

"Isn't everything about _you,_ Junymeon?" you said, anger rising in your voice. "You became bored of me, so you cheated on me. Now you need me to maintain your position in the company, so you're back."

"_______," he said, reaching out to place his hand on your arm. "If I knew of any other way, I wouldn't have been here."

You recoiled at his touch.

All you could imagine was him fucking his secretary.

_A cheater, just like your father._

"Get. Out," you hissed, pointing at the door, blinking back tears.

The pain came rushing back again, the moment he had touched you and you hated yourself for feeling so vulnerable.

"Please, just think about it-"

"GET OUT!" you shouted.

He looked at you, his expression pained. He stayed where he was for a moment, before sighing and walking out the door.

Slamming the door shut, you leaned back against it, sinking to the floor.

The tears came, flowing down your cheeks. Your heart felt heavy. It ached. And the pain inside you was festering away, making you miserable.

You didn't want any money or any materialistic possessions that your divorce settlement was bringing you.

You only wanted peace of mind.

_And love._

Most of all, _love._


	4. Chapter 4

You were sitting in the back of your chauffeured Mercedes, staring out of the window at the cloudy skyline of the city.

Hands clasped together, you were twiddling your thumbs, tapping your Louboutin clad foot restlessly against the floor of the car.

You were nervous. No doubt about it.

This was _it._

You had taken Junmyeon's advice. You had thought long and hard about the proposition he had made to you the other night. The one about putting up a front for the company's sake.

And you had decided that there was _no_ way in hell that you were going to put yourself through it.

Which is why you were on your way to the Kim Enterprises' head office, bright and early this morning. You wanted to inform Junmyeon of your decision in person.

Your answer this time was final.

In your mind, you had rehearsed your speech. Over and over again.

_I've thought over your proposition, Junmyeon. And I can't do it. I cannot play along and I cannot participate in this charade. Our relationship is broken, our divorce has almost been finalized. You are asking too much of me by asking me to protect your position in the company, especially after what you did. I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore._

The words of your speech had been thought out carefully. You wanted to tell him for once and for all, that it was over between you and him.

You had your peace of mind on the forefront. And you did not want to help Junmyeon in any way, after how he had treated you, how he had humiliated you and insulted your love for him by cheating on you with his secretary.

You were going to walk away.

This was your final choice.

Your answer.

Early this morning, you had called him up, to schedule an appointment with him for this very reason.

It felt a little odd, a little alien. You were having to schedule an appointment with this man, to whom you had devoted the better part of your youth. Your ex-husband to be.

Namjoon, your childhood best friend, had been absolutely thrilled that you were finally getting rid of Junmyeon. You had called him up, in tears, immediately after Junmyeon had left after making the proposition.

"How _dare_ he?" Namjoon had growled into the phone, and you could picture his angry face. "How dare that bastard ask this of you after _everything_ he has put you through?"

"I....I...." you had sobbed.

"________," he said your name in a plaintive tone. "Please tell me you're going to refuse him. This is _preposterous!_ You cannot put yourself through this."

"I need to think, Joon," you had breathed, before hanging up.

This morning, once your meeting with Junmyeon had been fixed, you had called Namjoon.

"I'm going to refuse him," you had said.

_"Thank god,_ princess," your best friend had sighed in relief. "Tell him. Straight up. No hesitation. And if you want, I can come with you to kick his ass."

You had chuckled. Namjoon always had the incredible ability to bring a smile to your face during your most tense moments.

This is why you loved him.

"No, Joonie," you had said to him. "I need to do it myself. I need to do it by myself, for myself."

_____________________

You were greeted with polite smiles as you walked through the hallways of the top floor of the head office.

Junmyeon's office was located at the far end of the corridor. The very same office that had belonged to his father when he had been the CEO.

The waiting room located just before the entrance to his office was empty, mercifully.

His chief personal assistant, Sehun was seated, as usual, at the front desk.

"Mrs. Kim!" he rushed over to you the very moment you set foot in the waiting room, smiling brightly.

You felt a strange twinge in your heart upon being addressed as Mrs. Kim. It felt so foreign.

Sehun's smile was contagious, and despite your inner turmoil and nerves, you found yourself mirroring his smile as you hugged him.

It felt like a lifetime ago, when you had been planning your wedding to Junmyeon, with Sehun by your side. He had just been one of Junmyeon's many assistants back then.

Sehun had helped you with everything, right from the selection of the venue to the centerpiece choices at your reception dinner. He had been with you even during your dress fittings, along with Namjoon, of course.

During the planning leading up to the highly anticipated, media-circus wedding, Sehun had been your right-hand man.

It was after your constant raving about his abilities of planning and multi-tasking had Junmyeon promoted Sehun to become his chief assistant. And for that, Sehun was forever grateful to you.

"How are you, Mrs. Kim?" he asked, pulling away to place his hands on your shoulders.

You smiled at him once more. "Good, Sehunnie," you lied smoothly. "But what is all this formality with calling me 'Mrs. Kim'? Call me, __________."

He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, ___________. Its just that... I'm seeing you after so _long."_

"I know," you patted his arm. "Is Junmyeon in?"

"Oh yeah," Sehun said. "He will take about ten minutes, though. Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Perkins are in there with him."

You frowned. This was odd.

Junymeon had assured you, the moment you had called him, that he'd keep the morning hours of today vacant for you, so that you were free to visit him anytime. You told Sehun as much.

"Yeah," Sehun said, his voice taking on a serious tone. "It was an emergency thing. Boss told them that you were coming, but they were pretty insistent upon meeting him. And you know, since they are the most senior members of the Board, Boss had to give in."

"They came in unannounced?" you asked, feeling knots form in your stomach. This was a grave matter, if two members of the Board came to see him out of nowhere.

Sehun nodded. "They were really adamant about meeting Boss _right this instant,"_ he said, adding finger quotes around the last three words.

"And Junmyeon didn't let you stay inside with him for this meeting?" you asked, your brow furrowing even more.

He nodded again. "Can you believe it? Boss always keeps me around for _every_ business meeting."

The knots in your stomach only grew even more constricted upon hearing this. This was very, **_very_** strange.

It was then that Junmyeon's words came to your mind.

_You know the news of Dad's ill health has reached the Board. The members are growing restless. For the sake of my position as CEO, we need to put up a front...._

At this, you felt nauseous, bile rising in your throat.

Was this sudden meeting about **_this?_**

You had to find out.

Mr. Kim, Junmyeon's father, had taught you that in business you always needed to be alert. You needed to keep your eyes and ears open. You needed to read the signs and take the necessary measures to mediate any impending disaster.

You _had_ to find out what was going on.

"____________," Sehun's voice brought you out of your reverie, making you jump slightly.

You looked at him.

"You look unwell," he said, ever the concerned assistant. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you nodded, fiddling with the cuffs of your Tom Ford blazer.

"Do you want anything? Tea? Coffee?" he offered.

You were about to refuse him, but then you realized the opportunity.

"Could you please bring me a Diet Coke?" you asked him sweetly.

"Of course!" he shot out of his chair with a smile and walked out to fetch the drink like the obedient assistant that he was.

You felt bad for sending him off on this errand, but you swallowed down the twinge of guilt. You had more pressing matters to attend to.

You remembered Mr. Kim's words to you. _"Always remember, _________, in business you always need to be prepared for the worst. You need to be one step ahead of the enemy and two steps ahead of the ones close to you, because you can never be sure who is planning a sabotage. It can come from anyone."_

Not unlike a certain arachnid superhero, your senses were tingling. So you heeded your instinct and tiptoed your way into Junmyeon's office.

With stealthy footsteps, you snuck into his office, where you knew there was a secret, concealed kitchenette of sorts, where Junmyeon liked to brew a cup of tea or coffee often.

It was your perfect hiding spot. And you could hear _everything._

"Junmyeon, you need to listen to us," you recognized the voice instantly as that belonging to Mr. Perkins. "Your father is no longer in lead. And your rivals are going to try their best to undermine you."

"I _know,_ sir, but-"

"Perkins is right. The news of your marital rift has reached your rivals. We are lucky that so far there is no tangible proof of the matter in their hands. But the moment they find anything, even the _slightest_ sliver of evidence to confirm your separation with _____________, they will be all over you," Mr. Jacobs said.

Your heart was thundering, and you were struggling to keep your breaths calm even though panic had erupted in your mind.

_Your business rivals knew about you and Junmyeon. **How** had that happened?_

"You and ___________ need to act like nothing has happened. You need to put up a united front, especially during the Expo. And all the galas. It is paramount that your rivals think they have nothing against you. Because believe me, they _will_ try to sabotage the stocks. The news of your father's ill health has already caused panic among the investors. We need things to appear stable. Atleast for a while," Mr. Perkins said.

You closed your eyes and exhaled shakily. This _couldn't_ be happening. Everything that Junmyeon's father had worked for, everything that you and Junmyeon had worked for was at stake.

"I _have_ tried to speak to __________, but I don't think she will listen," Junmyeon said, his voice sounding tired. "She is very hurt."

"Look," Mr. Jacobs said, "We want what is best for you and the interests of the company. You need to convince her. We cannot afford anymore unease among our investors. Our stocks will plummet and you _know_ where that will lead."

"Try to convince _________. It is your _only_ chance," Mr. Perkins said.

You felt dizzy all of a sudden. Leaning against the marble counter for support, your eyes scanned the shelves laden with tea-bags and espresso pods, your mind in a frenzy.

After hearing what you just had, there was _no_ way that you could go through with what you had initially planned to do.

You heard the two elderly board members depart Junmyeon's office, their footsteps growing distant, just as another set of footsteps came rushing in.

"Where's Mrs. Kim, Boss?" Sehun asked, he was panting, like he had run a mile. "I brought her Diet Coke."

"Perhaps she went to the washroom," Junmyeon said to him, sounding fatigued. "Leave it here, Sehun. I'll give it to her once she arrives."

You heard Sehun set down the beverage on Junmyeon's desk, before he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Then, after a prolonged moment of silence, you heard Junmyeon's quiet voice.

"I know you're in there, ___________."

Your breath hitched when he said your name.

Cautiously, you walked back out, and into the main section of his office.

Junmyeon was sitting in his chair, leaning back with his eyes closed. It was not even 9 a.m. and he looked _completely_ worn out.

You looked at him closely. He looked pale and drained. Despite everything, you couldn't help but feel bad at how stressed he looked.

"You heard?" he asked.

"I heard," you confirmed.

He sighed.

"I understand if you don't want to do it. I haven't exactly been the best husband. I'm not putting pressure on you-"

"Junmyeon, _shut up,"_ you cut him off, pinching the bridge of your nose, scrunching your eyes shut as you weighed your options. And it was clear that you had only one choice.

You opened your eyes and looked straight at him. "I'll do it. I'll help you."

The change in his expression was instantaneous. He hurried over to you. "_________. Thank you. _Thank you,"_ he said clasping your hands in his, beaming.

You pulled your hands out of his touch, stepping away from him. "I'm doing it for everything we've built. Everything your father has built. I'm not doing it for _you."_

His smile faltered, before he said, "I'm sorry for putting you through this. And I will do my best to make this as painless for you as possible. I promise."

"Don't make promises you cannot keep, Junmyeon," you said bitterly, before turning on your heel with the intent to walk away. But before you were out the door, you stopped and turned back to him.

"Who _is_ this rival of yours who is trying to sabotage the company so badly?" you asked.   
  


Junmyeon's eyes hardened into steel upon the mention of his rival. 

"His name is Yifan," he said, in a stony voice. "Wu Yifan." 


	5. Chapter 5

_Wu Yifan._

_Wu Yifan. Who **is** this Wu Yifan?_

You kept on repeating his name in your mind, almost like a mantra, as you walked through the driveway of Namjoon's mansion.

Raising your hand to ring the doorbell, you were startled when the door swung open even before your finger touched the bell button.

He stood in the doorway, a blindingly bright smile on his lips, dimples pitting his cheeks.

"Welcome, princess," Namjoon breathed excitedly, pulling you into his arms for a hug.

You felt your heart sink with guilt as you hugged him back. He was clearly under the impression that you had refused Junmyeon's proposal.

"You're _finally_ free of that demon," he whispered into your hair, and your doubt was immediately confirmed.

When he pulled away from you to cup your cheeks and place a kiss to your forehead, you felt your insides twist with remorse.

"Joon, I-" you began to speak, but he took your hand in his and practically dragged you inside.

"Come on in!" he exclaimed, talking delightedly. "I've got Casablanca lined up, got your favourite wine and I made paella for us..."

"You cooked paella?" you asked him, stunned. "You _cooked?"_

He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, I figured we'd celebrate your freedom with home-cooked food made by yours truly. If you want, I can order takeout."

Guilt spasmed sharply in your chest and you felt horrible. This man, your best friend, was celebrating a freedom that you hadn't yet attained. In fact, you had just pushed yourself further into trouble...

It must've shown on your face because Namjoon was quick to notice, his own smile disappearing upon seeing your expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked you gently.

It was just that two worded question that completely broke you. _What's wrong_. Such a simple question. But the answer was a catastrophe in and of itself.

Here you were, divorcing the man you had imagined yourself to be spending the rest of your life with. Junmyeon had been the love of your life, or that is what you thought. And you had loved him for _every single day_ that you had known him. How could he have thrown it all away so callously by getting involved with his secretary? It hurt. It hurt _so much._

And then your current predicament, having to pretend that everything was perfectly fine even though your marriage had fallen apart, just for the sake of your for all intents and purposes ex-husband to maintain his status in his company.

The months and months of stress, anger and despair suddenly came crashing down upon you, breaking free from the walls you had carefully contained it in, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

"Joon, I..." you cried, unable to formulate a sentence through the pain.

"________!" he was momentarily shocked to see the sudden burst of tears, but then he recovered and pulled you back into his arms.

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him like your life depended on it, sobbing into his chest.

"What is it? What happened?" he asked you gently.

"I can tell you everything, right?" you asked him, sniffling. "You won't judge me?"

"Never," he replied, running his fingers through your hair soothingly. "Tell me."

Never parting from you, he led you to the closest couch and made you sit down with him.

A long moment passed, before you finally lifted your head up to look at him with tear stained eyes.

And through choked sobs, you began to tell him what had happened today.

_________________

You both sat in silence after you had finished reciting your story.

Namjoon was staring at you, wide-eyed. Aghast.

"So, after everything that bastard did, after everything he put you through, you've decided to help him?" he asked you, his voice taking on a hard edge. "Are you serious?"

You were staring down at your clasped hands, not meeting his eyes.

"Yes," you murmured.

"Well, this is just fucked up. This is _beyond_ fucked up."

"I know, Joon. I-"

"No. Don't 'Joon' me, _________. Have you lost your mind? _Supporting_ that piece of shit?" he asked you, visibly angry now.

You remained silent.

"This just takes the goddamn cake! How many times are you going to let that asshole use you? This is toxic!" he was shouting at you.

"Namjoon, please," you tried to reason with him. "Please try to understand-"

"There is _nothing_ to understand! You're just going to keep going back to him and he'll think that he can get away with hurting you again. How can you be so stupid, __________?"

You felt a fresh wave of tears sting at your eyes.

"Joon, I don't want to fight. Please," you whispered, trying to reach out to him, but he stood up, stepping away from you, his expression furious.

"I'm giving you an ultimatum, _________. Its either him, or me," he said.

"Don't do this, Joon," you breathed, feeling pain stab at your heart at his words. "I need you."

"I'm doing this because I don't want you to get hurt again. Choose now, _____________. Its either him, or me."

You remained silent, staring down at the floor, tears sliding down your cheeks.

"Don't make me do this," you pleaded. _"Please,_ Joon."

"The fact that you're not willing to answer me is your answer in itself, ______________," he said and your head shot up.

He was smiling at you ruefully. Sadly. "He still has his claws so deep within you. You'll never be able to escape him."

At his words, something snapped within you. A tidal wave of pain engulfed your heart. You couldn't breathe anymore.

Looking around, you grabbed your purse, before standing up to hurriedly put on your coat.

"I wish you would understand, Namjoon. Of all the people, I thought that atleast _you'd_ understand," you said, swallowing the painful lump in your throat as you walked out the door.

Making your way straight to your Jaguar, you sat in the driver's seat, slamming the door shut.

As you were buckling yourself, you were thinking of someplace to go to. You didn't want to see Junmyeon, you didn't want to go back to Namjoon and his paella and the idea of going home sounded just too lonely for your shattered, battered heart.

Just as you turned the key in the ignition, an idea popped into your head. You knew _exactly_ where you needed to go.   
___________________________

You were tracing the rim of your now empty martini glass with a perfectly manicured nail.   
The impeccably applied raven lacquer of your nails was gleaming in the light that illuminated the pub that had been your haunt during your university days. Located on the more seedier, dodgier part of town, this most definitely wasn't a place for you, the ex-wife of a billionaire CEO. But this place had memories. _So many memories._ How many times had you come here with friends, with Joon, to celebrate or to drink away the stresses of your exams? You had lost count. But the memories remained firmly ingrained in your mind. And this place served the most splendid dirty martinis.

You finished off the last dregs of what was your third glass and ordered another, gesturing to the bartender to refresh your drink. With your Jaguar and your Louis Vuitton bag and with your Versace wrap dress and red-soled Louboutins, you had attracted the attention of _quite_ a few patrons of this pub upon your entrance. You seemed out of place. You didn't belong here.

And you didn't care.

It felt amazing to be in a place where no one knew you. Where no one addressed you as 'Mrs. Kim'.

You simply didn't care about anything anymore. Maybe it was the alcohol you had just consumed, or the fact that you were still fuming from Namjoon's lack of understanding, or the fact that you were despairing over your whole fiasco with Junmyeon, you just didn't care about _anything_ anymore.

And for the moment, it felt good, this blissful state of ignorance and negligence of your responsibilities and expectations.

The bartender served you your fourth drink, eyeing you curiously, probably wondering what this well-dressed, clearly rich, young girl was doing on this side of town.

Just as you raised your glass to your lips to take a sip of your martini, you felt someone slide into the seat beside yours.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" came a deep, velvety voice.

You snorted into your drink. _Very original_ , you thought. _You had **never** heard of this pick-up line before._

"What's it to you?" you replied snarkily, not bothering to look at the man beside you.

"It isn't safe, especially for someone like you," the man replied.

"For someone like _me?"_ you asked, still eyeing the rim of your glass, running a finger along the stem.

"Yeah," he said, leaning in close, so that you could catch a whiff of his _very_ expensive cologne. "I know your type. You're someone like _me."_

Turning to him with the intent to tell him to mind his own business, you were struck dumb the moment you saw him.

_Gorgeous._

That was the first and only word that came to mind when you looked at him.

He was tall and you could tell that by how he towered over you, even while seated. Dark haired, dark eyed, his unblemished skin was the colour of a very pale gold. It set off a very striking contrast, especially against the rosy fullness of his lips, that were curved into an impish smile. He was dressed in a white button up shirt and black trousers. 

The way he sat, his posture, radiated a sense of royalty, quite similar to yours. The straightness of his back, the slight jut of his pointed chin, his body language gave away the fact that he was indeed a man who revolved in the same upper circles of the society that you did.

You didn't know if it was the alcohol or the fact that you were trying to distract yourself from the troubles of your life, you found yourself flirting back.

"And how am I someone like you?" you asked, smiling.

"Well," he began, tilting his head toward you. "You don't belong here. Neither do I. We're one of the 'beautiful people,"' he said. "Two beautiful people trying to escape the world they've come from."

"Very true," you nodded once, before raising your glass to your lips. "What gave me away?"

"Your Jag," he deadpanned without missing a beat. And you laughed.

Loudly and freely.

It felt _good._ You hadn't laughed like this in quite a while.

You couldn't help but notice the genuine smile he gave you while you laughed.

"But really," you asked him, when you sobered. "What gave me away?"

He looked at you, a sudden intensity in his eyes that caused heat to flush your cheeks. "Your eyes," he said, leaning even closer. "There's a loneliness in your eyes."

Upon hearing that, you turned away, avoiding his eyes. He was right. _So right._

"Its alright," he added soothingly. "Sometimes talking it out to a stranger helps, you know?"

You entertained the thought for a moment, but decided against it. Why should you burden a complete stranger with your life's troubles?

And besides, the more devious part of you was already thinking of an infinitely better scenario involving this handsome stranger beside you.

Come on, you were almost divorced. And you were young! What harm could a one-night fling do?

So you invited him over to your place.

He smiled and paid the bartender for his drink and yours, against your protests.

When you walked outside, car key in hand, he stopped you.

"I think it'd be better if I drove," he said. "Since I'm clearly the more sober one out of us."

You relented, handing him the key.

The drive to your place was filled with a comfortable silence, one of his large, warm hands holding yours as he drove.

Once you reached outside your apartment building, you got out of the car, and he followed you.

Before you stepped across the threshold of your building's entrance, he grasped your wrist.

He placed your car key in your hand.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go now," he said.

Your heart sank and you looked visibly crestfallen.

He noticed and cupped your face, cradling it in the warmth of his palms.

"Believe me, ___________. You are one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. And if we would've met on another night, I'd have loved to take this further," he said, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "But taking advantage of gorgeous drunk girls is not my style."

You chuckled, despite feeling a pang of sadness that this wasn't going to go as you had expected.

"We _will_ meet again," he said, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

And then, he walked away.

You watched him leave, right up until he turned around the corner and disappeared.

It was then that you realized a few things.

_How had he known your name when you had never mentioned it to him?_

_And even more disappointingly, you had forgotten to take his number._

_Or his name._


	6. Chapter 6

You fidgeted with the bodice of your Elie Saab couture gown, your eyes fixed on your reflection in the closest mirror.

There was no doubt, you were nervous.

Beneath the expertly applied makeup and the impeccably coiffed hair, you were absolutely terrified.

This was going to be your first public appearance alongside Junmyeon, after your divorce settlement had been over and done with.

Your heart was beating madly, the flow of your blood ringing in your ears.

It was the night where you had to play the role of the perfect hostess. The perfect wife. And you were clearly having a bad case of stage-fright.

Just then, Junmyeon walked into the room. He was dressed in all black, in a custom-made Armani suit, looking as sharp as ever. Just like the CEO of Kim Enterprises was expected to look like.

Fiddling with his cufflinks, he gave you an appreciative once-over.

"You look _beautiful,_ ___________," he said, admiringly.

It felt odd, almost foreign, receiving this compliment from him. Earlier such praise from your husband would have caused you to blush. But today, right now, it felt like a stab to your heart.

He noticed it when you didn't smile or respond to his words.

Stepping closer, he took one of your hands in both of his.

"I'm really grateful that you are with me for this, __________."

Even his touch felt different. When earlier you would've squeezed his hand back, giving into the warmth of his skin, today you felt like withdrawing from him.

Which you did, pulling your hand away from his grasp.

Turning away from him, you took a deep breath to regain your composure.

You couldn't act this way in front of the others. Not in front of all the board members and their respective spouses. And not to mention, the alleged rivals of Kim Enterprises, who were _also_ going to be in attendance at the gala, as Junmyeon had informed you.

Taking another fortifying breath, you turned back to face Junmyeon, a radiant smile on your lips.

"Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

_______________________

You played your part.

And you played it well.

At the gala, you were the life of the party. Chatting animatedly with the senior members of the management, complimenting their wives on their sartorial choices, dancing every single dance you were asked to.

For the rest of the while, you stayed beside Junmyeon, your arm linked through his, playing the part of the beautiful, happily married couple who had it _all._

While on the outside you were smiling as you sipped upon your flute of champagne, on the inside you were feeling suffocated.

_Smothered._

_Was **this** going to be your life?_

_Just a pretence? A farce?_

Where you had to act as if everything was perfect, while on the inside you were clearly falling apart?

The longer you stayed beside Junmyeon, the worse the feeling became.

You wanted to run away.

You wanted to escape.

You wanted to go back to Namjoon's place and tell him that he was right and that you were a fool for thinking that you could pull this off.

You wanted to get rid of this expensive dress and wash off the makeup you had on and change into your ratty pyjamas. You wanted to eat his home-cooked paella and watch Casablanca with him.

You wanted-

"Ah, ____________," Junmyeon's voice pulled you out of your internal turmoil and you looked at him.   
He leaned in close and whispered into your ear, his smile never faltering. "Here he is. Wu Yifan."

Turning your head to look at the man Junmyeon was looking at, you felt the air leave your lungs.

Your hands went cold.

You felt panic engulf every thought inside your head, because the man walking toward you both was none other than the stranger you had met at the bar. The one who had paid for your drinks. The one who had driven you home.

Wu Yifan.

 _We **will** meet again_, his words rang out in your head.

And a hundred questions rose up in response.

_**This** was Wu Yifan?_

_The man who was trying to sabotage Junmyeon's position?_

_How could it be?_

_Was **this** why he had sought you out in the bar that night?_

_Did he expect you to spill some dirty secrets about you marriage in your inebriated state?_

_Was what he had said to you that night all a lie?_

_Was his attraction toward you a lie?_

_**How** had he known that you'd be there at the bar that night?_

_Had he been **following** you?_

Swallowing thickly, you took another sip of champagne for good measure, letting the alcohol flow down your throat. Filling yourself up with golden liquid courage.

Inhaling deeply, you let your lips curl into the most beaming, sparkling smile.

_This was it. The most important part of your show._

"Mr. Kim," Yifan said, coming to a stop right before you, a shining smile on his face as he greeted his rival. "We finally meet."

"And so we do, Mr. Wu," Junmyeon replied, unable to hide the stiff tremor in his voice as he sized up his rival, who was a good seven inches taller than him.

They shook hands.

Junmyeon gestured toward you. "And this is my wife, ______________."

Yifan's eyes met yours and he took a firm hold of the hand you had proffered to him. A bolt of heat went through you the moment he touched you.

"Of course," he said, raising your hand to his lips, placing a kiss. "The belle of the ball, ____________."

His velvety voice and the touch of his lips sent a shiver through you.

_What was this man doing to you?_

"What brings you to the city, Mr. Wu?" Junmyeon asked politely.

As he answered Junmyeon, Yifan's eyes stayed locked with yours.

"One of my favourite artists, Kim Minseok is holding an exhibition of his paintings. I wasn't going to miss that for the world," he said.

"Mr. Wu has quite an eye for beauty. He has one of the finest art collections in the world, ___________," Junmyeon said to you.

You raised your glass to your lips, quirking a brow at him. "Is that right, Mr. Wu?"

Yifan placed a hand to his chest. "I am nothing but a humble admirer. That is all," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Although now that I am finally here in your fine city, I've found quite a few beautiful things that have caught my eye," he said, grinning at you.

You felt blood rush to your cheeks when you realized the true meaning of his words and you averted his gaze, unable to mainrain eye-contact any longer.

All the while, Junmyeon was watching your interaction with Yifan with a frank curiosity. Trying to wonder what exactly was the dynamic here.

"May I have a dance with you, Mrs. Kim?" Yifan asked you, holding out his hand to you.

You opened your mouth to speak but Junmyeon interrupted you.

"Oh, I don't think ______________ is feeling very well and-"

  
"I believe I asked the _lady_ the question, Mr. Kim, not _you,"_ Yifan said, cutting Junmyeon off.

You looked at your husband and his dumbstruck expression amused you.

For just that moment, watching your cheating husband stutter, you felt triumphant.   
_Victorious._

Normally, this possessiveness he had over you would have been endearing, arousing even. But after discovering his infidelity, everything about him soured. How dare he stop you from dancing with whoever you pleased? After fucking his secretary while being _married_ to you, he has the gall to stop you from dancing with someone he hates? You were suddenly reminded of all the pain he had put you through.

And you looked at Yifan's hand, which was still outstretched toward you, an inviting, expectant smile on his lips.

"Of course," you smiled back at him, placing your hand in his, watching with satisfaction as Junmyeon's jaw went slack because of your blatant defiance. "It will be my honour, Mr. Wu."

"Please," he said, leading you to the dance floor, away from your husband. "Call me Yifan."

"As long as you call me, ______________."

"____________," he said, pulling you into his arms as the song began and you couldn't help but feel your cheeks flush at the way your name rolled off his tongue.

He towered over you, making you feel tiny beside his gigantic frame. But he moved with a grace that you hadn't expected from him. Clearly, he was an experienced dancer.

"We meet again," you said, echoing his words from that night, looking up at him as you both swayed in time with the soulful ballad, a spotlight following you as you moved across the floor.

He smiled. "Yes we do, sweet ____________. _Just_ like I had promised."

He whirled you around, leading you into a dip before pulling you up.

"Is this part of your plan? Was that night all part of your plan?" you asked him.

"Meeting you that night wasn't my plan. But it was a _very_ pleasant surprise."

You scoffed. "And you think I'll believe that?"

He chuckled. "I don't expect you to believe a word of what I say. But think about it..." he said, his hold tightening around you as he pulled you closer. "You were drunk that night. The wife of my rival. I could've easily taken advantage of you and used it as leverage against you and forced you to help me sabotage your husband's company. But I didn't do that."

Your heart skipped a beat as you processed his words. _He could have done that_. You had so foolishly made yourself vulnerable and he could have taken advantage of your weakness. You had appeared all too willing that night. But he _didn't._ Instead, he made sure you reached home safely. 

 _"Why?"_ you asked him.

He leaned in close and whispered into your ear. "I would never stoop so low. It is not my style."

"And what _is_ your style?" you asked him.

"Believe me when I say this, ___________. My rivalry is with Junmyeon and Junmyeon _alone._ I will never harm you. _Never._ You will not be collateral damage in this war I have with him. You have my word."

You couldn't hide the contempt in your voice as you spoke. "We shall see how fair you play, Yifan."

Right about then, you heard the last notes of the song being played.

As if the spell was broken, he released you.

"You're a beautiful woman, __________. You deserve to be cherished and adored. And I will never treat you the way your husband did," he said, placing a final kiss to the back of your hand before walking away.

 


	7. Chapter 7

It was the buzz of your phone that woke you up from a deep, dreamless slumber.

With bleary, groggy eyes, you reached for the device on your bedside table. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you glanced at the screen.

 **Jong (16:03):** I hope you are coming to the gallery this evening. Its the last day of the exhibit and Minseok will be _pissed_ if you are not there.

Upon reading the message, your still sleepy eyes blinking blankly at the searing brightness of the screen, you groaned.

_Shit._

Today was supposed to be your day off from everything and everyone. For the majority of the day you had been lounging around the house on your pyjamas, your butt parked squarely in the middle of your living room couch, gorging on Thai take-out from the neighbourhood deli while watching Netflix.

But Jongdae's reminder/warning text, that had woken you up from your late afternoon nap, threw all your plans of having a relaxed, chilled-out evening out the window.

Kim Jongdae was Minseok's husband. And the two of them were prominent names on the city's art circuit. Minseok was the artist, the painter. While Jongdae ran one of the poshest, swankiest art galleries in town.

Together, professionally and personally, they both made an excellent team. Jongdae's stability and reliability kept a tether on Minseok's flighty and temperamental nature. They both balanced out each other quite well.

Jong had been a close friend of yours for many years now. The two of you had first met when Junmyeon had introduced you to him and it was Jong who had helped you curate the vast art collection that belonged to Junmyeon and Kim Enterprises.

It was through him that you came to know Minseok.

Upon your very first meeting with the acclaimed artist himself, he had declared you to be his muse.

"Ma muse extraordinaire," Minseok referred to you since then. And you had become the subject or inspiration for many of his artworks.

He considered you to be his most precious discovery. His lucky charm.

Which is why you simply had to attend the last night of his exhibition. Or else you'd incur his wrath. And by wrath you meant that he wouldn't talk to you for months.

While you were lost in your own thoughts, another text from Jongdae popped up.

 **Jong (16:06):** _Please_ tell me you're coming. Or I'll have to haul you over here myself.

You chuckled, before typing out a quick response.

 **You (16:07):** I'll be there, J. Not to worry.

His reply came immediately.

 **Jong (16:07):** Oh thank GOD. See you there! Love you!

Despite the nebulous headache you felt growing in your head at the very prospect of socializing, you felt a laugh leave you at the relief in Jongdae's message.

It would be prudent not to anger Minseok, especially on his big day.

Keeping that thought in mind, you extricated yourself from the warm comfort of your bed, fighting reluctance, and thrust yourself into the shower.

A long, hot shower was exactly what you needed to cleanse away your stresses. Putting on some 60's music, you proceeded to prep and primp and scrub and moisturize within an inch of yourself.

Once you stepped out of your now steamy bathroom you blow-dried and styled your hair into your signature waves, letting them flow down your back freely before you went on to pick your outfit and proceed with makeup.

You chose to keep it simple: a little black Chanel dress, black tights and black high heels. Smokey bronze eyes and a pink lip.

Once you finished spritzing yourself with a cloud of your favourite perfume, you were done.

Picking up your phone with the intent of calling your chauffeur, you found yourself checking your messages.

Still nothing from Namjoon.

Since that day when you had left his place, ending your sleepover abruptly, you hadn't heard a word from your best friend.

No calls, no texts.

He refused to pick up your calls or reply to your texts.

You understood the reason behind his anger. He _hated_ Junmyeon. And he hated what you were doing for him.

Yet, you couldn't help but feel his absence everyday. Especially now, in your state of loneliness.

Your marriage was broken, your husband gone. You didn't want to lose your best friend too.

 **You (18:56):** Joon, please, _talk_ to me. I miss you. I love you.

Typing out the text, you hit _send._

You didn't expect any reply from him. Atleast not just yet. But you had to let him know that he had been on your mind.

Inhaling a deep breath, you smoothed the front of your dress, giving yourself a cursory once-over in the nearest mirror.

It was time to leave.

And Minseok hated late-comers to his parties.

________________________

The moment you arrived at the gallery, Jongdae spotted you and rushed over to engulf you in a bear-hug that knocked the air out of your lungs.

"Thank god you came!" he exclaimed, clearly excited and relieved that you had decided to show up after all. "Minseok has asked me _three times_ about you."

You smiled, hugging him back, before pulling away to ask him, "Is that so?"

He grinned at you, before grabbing a glass of wine from the nearest passing waiter and pressing it into your hand.

"Come now, he's been waiting for you," he said, gesturing for you to follow him. But you placed a hand on his arm.

"Oh come _on,_ Jong! What's the rush? Let me look at Minseok's works first!" you said, heading toward the closest painting.

He laughed, putting an arm around you. "Very well, very well."

And what exquisite works they were.

As you moved across the gallery, you were in awe of Minseok's utter genius. The way he recited an entire story through his brushstrokes on the canvas never ceased to amaze you. The flow of colours, melding into one another seamlessly. The plays of light and darkness. The complex layerings of pictures into pictures.

"He's incredible," you murmured, more to yourself than to anyone else.

Jongdae sighed in agreement beside you.

When you finally reached the back of the gallery, it was the pièce de résistance that completely took your breath away.

It was a medium-sized canvas, and it looked like the work had been painted once, the dried paint scraped away in places and then repainted upon, in warm vermilions and crimsons and ochres. The layered paint gave it an extra dimension, making the riot of colours almost seem to have come to life. You almost felt like you could drown within the cacophony of colours.

"It looks like the sunset," you gasped, awestruck.

"And so it does, my muse," came Minseok's low voice behind you. "And that's why I've named it so. _Sunset."_

You turned around to see him standing there, dressed sharply in an azure blazer, a smile on his lips.

"You came," he said, pulling you into his arms for a hug.

"Of course, Min," you said, embracing him. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

"Now, come on, ________," he said, gesturing around the gallery in one sweep of his arm. "Which one is your favourite?" he asked you with a fond smile.

"This one. Your masterpiece," you said, pointing at the sunset hued painting behind you. "I'm ready to buy it off you right _now."_

Minseok grinned, his smile a mixture of happiness. And a little sheepishness.

"What's wrong?" you asked him, watching him rub the back of his neck, looking at the floor.

It was Jongdae who answered.

"Oh, ____________, every painting in this exhibition has already been bought. At double the price. All by one person," he said.

You almost choked on your sip of wine. "All of them? For _double?_ Who bought it?"

Almost as if on cue, Jongdae and Minseok's gazes went to someone behind you.

You turned around.

And there he was.

Clad in a Tom Ford suit, looking sharp as ever.

"There he is, ___________," Minseok announced rather grandly. "Our great benefactor, Mr. Wu Yifan."

You watched him closely as he approached the three of you, his eyes fixed on you.

"We meet again, ____________," Yifan said, leaning in to place a kiss to your cheek.

The whiff of his cologne went straight into your head, inebriating you faster than the wine in your hand.

Minseok spoke excitedly. "I was just telling ___________ how you've so generously purchased each of my works."

"Ah," Yifan said, waving a hand as if to dismiss the comment. "I'm just a fan, Minseok. That's all."

You looked at him, quietly sipping your wine. Barely saying a word to him.

The thing was, that you felt extremely nervous and jittery around the man.

And you really didn't want to give yourself away. Not just yet.

Your eyes drifted to the painting instead, soaking in its beauty.

But a soft giggle caught your attention.

When you found the source of the laugh, you felt your heart sink to the floor.

Because standing in a darkened corner of the gallery was Junmyeon. And he was chatting animatedly to a gorgeous brunette, who upon a closer inspection, you recognized as his former secretary. The one who he had had his affair with. Alicia.

A sudden, white-hot anger rose up in you, a painful lump forming in your throat.

_He was **never** going to redeem himself, was he?_

There he had you playing along with the charade of your marriage to save his status and here he was flirting with the very woman he had cheated on you with?

Yifan noticed your change in mood immediately.

"Are you alright, __________?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Your eyes stung with hot tears as they met his for only a second.

"I have to go," you said to Minseok and Jongdae, averting your gaze from Yifan.

"What? _Why?_ You only just got here!" Minseok said, looking visibly crestfallen.

You looked down at the floor to prevent the three men from noticing the tears steadily brimming in your eyes. "I...uh.... I just remembered that I have a meeting with someone. Work stuff..." you lied pathetically. "I'll see you all later, yeah?"

And with that, you walked away from them, your feet moving as fast as you could manage. Trying to get away from this whole raging nightmare.

You heard Yifan call out for you.

But you ignored him and kept on walking.

You wanted to get home so that you could cry in peace.

_Alone._

__________________________

"Hello, Charles," you greeted the elderly doorman of your building with a weak smile.

"Ah, Mrs. Kim," he greeted you with a genuine smile, but being addressed by _his_ name felt like a slap in your face. "There is a package waiting for you."

Your brows went up. You hadn't been expecting anything.

Charles reached beneath his desk and drew out a cardboard box, wrapped in plain brown paper. You could see that it was addressed to you, the elegant cursive penmanship on the front of the paper clearly saying so.

Shrugging, you accepted the package and carried it up to your apartment.

Once you were in the comfort of your home, you kicked off your heels and went to your study to retrieve a box-cutter.

Carefully, you unwrapped the package and sliced open the cellotape around the box.

When you finally managed to open it and sift through the wrapping and padding, you gasped.

Because sitting proudly inside that inconspicuous cardboard box was Minseok's painting.

_His masterpiece._

_Sunset._

You were stunned.

Shocked beyond words.

_What was this painting doing here?_

It was then that you noticed a card sitting within the padding that was cushioning the artwork.

You pulled it out and noticed that it had the same, almost calligraphic handwriting on it that had been on the front of the box.

_Please consider this as my gift to you, sweet __________._

_\- YW_

Even before you were able to process the words, you heard your cell phone ring.

 _Unknown number,_ it said on the screen.

But you had a sneaky suspicion about who was calling you.

You took the call.

"I hope you liked my present?" he asked, and your heart rate immediately sped up in recognition of his deep voice.

"I cannot accept this, Yifan," you said. "It is too much. I _cannot_ take this from you."

He chuckled at the nervous inflection in your voice.

"Consider this my way of paying you back for the dance that night," he said.

You felt your cheeks flush at his words. "Is that how it is?" you asked.

"That is _exactly_ how it is," he responded and you coud hear his smile. "And I'm not taking a no for an answer. The painting is yours."

"And how do I pay you back for _this_ present?" you asked, biting down on your lip.

"By allowing me to take you out to dinner," he said.

 

 


End file.
